


It’s Beginning To Look A Lot Like Thurseblot

by BawdryWeirdsley



Series: Loki Laufeyson: Avenger of Midgard [4]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: BDSM, Bondage, Boot Worship, Bottom Loki (Marvel), Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Smut, Face Slapping, Fluff and Smut, Humiliation, M/M, Marvel Norse Lore, Master/Slave, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Pseudo-Incest, Slave Loki (Marvel), Tickling, Top Thor (Marvel), bootlicking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-20
Updated: 2019-12-20
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:27:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21876613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BawdryWeirdsley/pseuds/BawdryWeirdsley
Summary: Loki is almost as dismissive of Midgard’s winter customs as he is of those on Asgard. When Tony Stark invites Loki and Thor to spend their rare holiday in New York with him and Pepper, Thor takes the chance to teach Loki a lesson in festive appreciation.A stand-alone piece of smutty fluff set in my ‘Loki Laufeyson, Avenger of Midgard’ universe.
Relationships: Loki/Thor (Marvel)
Series: Loki Laufeyson: Avenger of Midgard [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1439053
Comments: 9
Kudos: 112





	It’s Beginning To Look A Lot Like Thurseblot

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who has read my fanfic this year! I’ve found such a lovely community here and met so many wonderful writers and readers. I’m so glad you’ve come along on this odd, smutty journey with me and I hope you enjoy this fluffy nonsense as much as I enjoyed writing it.

“Kinda a culturally insensitive question, Cap.”

Steve frowns at Tony. “Insensitive?”

“Not everyone celebrates Christmas,” says Tony.

“Which is why I asked,” says Steve. He grimaces at Thor. “Sorry if I offended you.”

“Not at all,” says Thor. “We have a festival to mark the end of the year, but it’s a little different from this one. We don’t bring trees into our homes...why is there a tree in our home?”

There are trees all over the compound it seems, both in the cavernous lobby and in the canteen where the support workers take their meals. The one they’re gathered around now stands in the main room of the Avenger’s Private living quarters. Covering it with these odd electric lights and trinkets had been Steve’s request, and Thor is happy enough to help. He’s willing to do whatever he can do to forstall more of Captain America’s brooding on the problems that beset them, starting with the Infinity Stones and ending with their newest addition, the mysterious Bucky Barnes.

Loki makes a dismissive noise from the sofa where he lolls with one of Tony’s books of theoretical mechanics. “It’s a symbol of fertility, most likely. Midgardians are obsessed with fertility, for some reason.”

“Midgardian men,” says Nat, giving his foot a kick.

“It’s not _quite_ like that,” says Steve.

“What is the story then?” asks Nat. “I don’t think I know either.” 

Like Loki she’s taking the role of spectator in this particular enterprise, nursing a glass of a sweet, sickly drink that Steve claims is made from _eggs_ of all things.

“A long time ago there was this guy, Jesus,” says Tony. “And he rode to Bethlehem on a magical talking tree.”

Thor nods. Magical talking trees he can see the sense in.

“That’s not true,” says Steve tersely. 

“Why do we have the tree then, smart guy?” asks Tony.

“I’m more concerned with the hat,” says Loki, stretching luxuriously. You look like a court jester, Tony.”

“It’s a Santa hat,” says Tony. “And actually it suits me. Brings out the color of my eyes,” he tips Loki a wink, and Loki sighs and goes back to pretending to read.

“Santa?” asks Thor. “Is Santa at all like Sandar?”

“Who’s Sandar?” asks Steve.

“A terrible ghost with twelve heads and thirty six bloody eyes, who devours the souls of cowards who flee from battle.”

“No!” says Steve, at the same time Tony says “Yes.”

Bucky laughs. “A little help here? One armed guy doesn’t exactly mix with glass ornaments.”

Steve hurries over to pass him the box of sparkling silver ornaments. Bucky Barnes is still weak from his ordeal, and Thor notices that whenever he’s left alone for too long he lapses into dark silences that match Steve’s own. When they returned from Asgard Bucky was living in the compound and Thor still isn’t quite sure of the details of what happened while he, Loki and Stark were away, except that it seems to have caused a fresh rift between the Avengers and the Midgardian authorities. Loki has been uncharacteristically tactful with Bucky, and Thor’s been surprised to find the two of them talking together many times in the weeks since their return from Asgard. He supposes the darkness in his Brother recognizes the darkness in this strange man, just as he often finds himself sympathizing with Steve the dutiful soldier.

“It’s a German tradition, isn’t it?” asks Rhodey. “What I heard, anyway.”

“Germans? Uh oh! Says Tony. “Don’t tell Cap.”

Bucky laughs and Steve’s frown melts away at the sound of it.

“That’s right,” he says. “It’s about light. About life. Winter is dark and cold, but the tree reminds us that summer will come again.”

“Fertility symbol. You were right,” mutters Nat.

“It’s a pagan thing, originally,” says Bruce. “I can still fix up the lights if you want, Steve?”

“These lights are fine.”

“A little dull, says Tony.

“They’re traditional.”

“They’re a fire trap. Bruce and I could engineer you something really neat. Lights that blink on and off in time to the music. Maybe smell of cinnamon? Perhaps capable of detonating small armored vehicles in emergency situations? That kind of thing.”

“No thank you,” says Steve, primly. He turns back to Thor. “So you don’t have anything like this, to see out the year?”

“There’s Jul,” says Thor.

Loki groans. “Ugh. How glad I am to be a world away from Jul.”

“And don’t forget Thurseblot!”

Loki shakes his head. “I’m trying very hard to forget Thurseblot.”

Thor chuckles.

“What’s Thurseblot?” asks Steve, seemingly glad to change the subject. 

“Oh, Loki you tell it,” says Thor slyly. “I’m sure you’ll do a much better job.”

Loki shoots him a narrow-eyed look. “The most pointless celebration there is,” he says. “As if every day on Asgard wasn’t a celebration of the Mighty Thor.”

“You have your own holiday?” says Tony. “Must be neat being a God. Do you have one, Loki?”

Thor turns away to hide his laugh.

“Only a preening idiot needs an entire festival devoted to how wonderful they are,” says Loki acidly.

“It’s like your Birthday?” asks Steve.

“Is there cake?” asks Tony.

“It’s not my nameday, no. There’s a feast, to commemorate my victories in battle,” says Thor. “We drink to the fallen, and I bestow gifts of fine weapons upon my warriors to thank them, for no victory is mine alone.”

Loki snorts. “How noble of you.”

“And what’s Jul?” asks Bruce. 

“Jul celebrates the height of winter’s power with a wild hunt through the cosmos. We pursue the deadliest beasts across the Nine Relams, and after ten days we feast on their flesh, and celebrate our worth as warriors. It’s a magnificent sight. My Father, Odin mounted upon Sleipnir...”

“Sleipnir your horse son, Lokes? That Sleipnir?” Asks Tony. “From when you got knocked up by a horse?”

Loki glowers at Tony. “A foolish Midgardian story. If I want to couple with a beast with twenty times more strength than brains I have Thor. I’ve no need to haunt a stable, although perhaps the pillowtalk would be more interesting.”

Thor shakes his head and Tony grins. Steve goes back to fussing with the garlands. Their teammates have accepted their relationship with barely a word said, but Thor knows it worries Steve. He’s kind, but oddly cautious in a way that Thor can’t quite pin down. 

“So there’s a big guy with a beard riding a magical flying creature through the sky, and everyone gets gifts?” says Rhodey. “Doesn’t sound that different to our story about Santa.”

“And Jul is very close to Yule,” says Nat.

“Midgardians have no originality,” sniffs Loki. “Although _we_ leave our trees outside. Where they belong.”

“Don’t listen to him,” Thor murmurs to Steve. “I’d know more of these Midgardian traditions. They’re pleasing to me, and a light in the darkness is something that all of us could use.”

“I could use another eggnog,” says Tony. “Thor?”

“Are there truly eggs in it?” Thor asks.

“Protein, champ. It’s good for you.”

“But _eggs_. Why eggs?”

“Fertility symbol,” say Nat and Loki together.

* * *

“Sure you guys don’t want to come? It’s gonna be quiet around here without me,” Tony says.

Steve shakes his head. “Quiet is just what we need.”

Nat and Bruce have left already, gone to spend the next few days with Clint and his family. Thor and Loki hadn’t planned to leave the upstate compound, but uncharacteristically Loki has suggested they take Tony up on his offer to spend the strange Midgardian festival in Manhattan. Of all the cities on Midgard it’s the last place he expected Loki to wish to return to, but his Brother has assured him that his wards and disguises will cloak his identity. Thor still isn’t quite sure what this Christmas thing is all about, but he’s fairly certain it does not require an angry mob, and hopes that Loki is correct. Whatever tales the Midgardian authorities have spun to the media about mind-control, he doubts his Brother will ever be welcome here by those who bore the brunt of the Chitauri attack.

“You think Steve’s puny tree is something, wait until you see the one in the plaza,” Tony says as they head towards the waiting car.

“Do you think they’ll be alright here alone, Steve and Barnes?” Thor asks. “Perhaps we should have stayed.”

“Alone is exactly what they need to be,” says Loki. 

“Why?” asks Tony.

Loki rolls his eyes. “For a genius you’re surprisingly thick-headed at times.”

Tony looks at Thor. “Do you know what he means?”

“Not a clue.”

Tony shrugs. “Welp, I’m kinda glad you guys decided to come. Keep Rhodey company while Pep and I fight.”

“Have you considered _not_ fighting?” Loki asks.

Tony shrugs. “Pepper and I are still kinda...” he ponders. “Learning to get along together. Having company might keep us civil. And since Christmas is the traditional time for family arguments...”

“Is it?” asks Thor. “A strange custom.”

“I don’t think he means literally,” says Loki with a small smile.

“What I’m saying is it’ll be nice to have you guys there as a buffer.”

“It’s kind of you to ask us,” says Thor. “I look forward to learning more of this festival.”

The private car is outfitted with every luxury, and even Loki only complains that they could have been there in an instant via magic once. He’s happy enough to curl up next to Thor, resting his head on his shoulder and watching the bare winter trees flash by as Tony and Happy argue logistics both mundane and mission-related. Officially, the Avengers are lying low while the remains of SHEILD and the Council argue back and forth about the implications of the Winter Soldier, but unofficially plans are being put into place for their new, covert mission beyond Midgard, and Tony in particular seems excited to begin.

“Look at him,” says Loki, following Thor’s gaze. “Nervous as a bachelor at his handfasting. Have you met this woman of his?”

He speaks directly into Thor’s thoughts- a useful trick indeed, although it feels impolite to Thor when it’s used in this way, for gossip.

“It isn’t gossip. I was just curious about our hostess.”

“I’ve heard she’s a clever woman. Runs Stark industries herself more or less now that Tony’s time is taken up with our mission.”

“Clever. Huh. That’s just what you said about Foster.”

“Who _is_ clever. A remarkable woman, and I’ll hear nothing against her.”

“Remarkable? Remarkably tedious.”

“Jealous, Brother?”

“Hardly,” sniffs Loki. “But if this Pepper is anything like Foster I’m beginning to have second thoughts about joining them.”

“If she fascinates Tony she must be fascinating indeed.”

“If you say so. Poor creature. It’s doomed, of course.”

“Why?”

Loki laughs softly. “Well if you were engineering a reconciliatory weekend with the estranged love of your life would you invite the two men you’d been lying with?”

“And Rhodey,” says Thor. 

“And Rhodey. Stark’s problem is that any domesticity he manages to build with one hand he’ll smash to pieces with the other. He thrives on chaos.”

“Well, you’d know.”

Loki looks up at him. “Aye, I would. Peace suits none of us well. Warriors and madmen is what we are.”

“ _This_ suits me well enough,” says Thor, giving Loki’s thigh a sly squeeze. “And you’d best behave yourself.”

“Or what? Will Rogers’ ridiculous Santa Claus add me to his naughty list?”

“No. I’ll add you to _my_ naughty list. And you won’t enjoy the gift I bestow upon you.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” whispers Loki, out loud. His breath tickles Thor’s neck and stirs his blood.

He’s happy when the car drops them off at the Five Seasons. Tony had offered them a room in his own tower, but in a tone that even Thor was able to interpret as suggesting he’d appreciate some time with Pepper beyond playing host. And in truth, he’s eager to be alone with Loki too. Even in their own rooms in the complex there’s always the awareness that the others are nearby, that they’re part of this odd little family they’re all careful to call a team instead. On Asgard every moment had been stolen. Here in this hotel, the two of them made anonymous by Loki’s magic they're just another couple holidaying in this Midgardian metropolis, and Thor feels a sudden thrill of freedom. Perhaps Loki feels it too. He squeezes Thor’s hand as they’re ushered into the opulent lobby by a liveried doorman. A far grander version of Steve’s festive decor adorns the walls and a vast sparkling tree looms over its own reflection in the marble floor. The architecture of this building is almost Asgardian in scale, and he feels at home here.

“I suppose these trees are not unlovely,” says Loki cocking his head. “It still makes little sense to me, but it’s better than Jul.”

“And Thurseblot?”

Loki gives him a poke with his elbow.

Stark has booked them into the Warner penthouse which turns out to be a palatial aerie so grand that not even Loki can find anything to complain about. He runs his fingers down the keys of the grand piano which stands before a floor-to-ceiling window. Central Park lies a dizzying distance below, like a swatch of Arcadia held captive in the middle of the city.

“Books, they even have books,” says Loki examining the shelves. “This isn’t _too_ awful, isn’t it?”

“It’s a little much. Simpler rooms would have been fine.”

Loki rolls his eyes. “How is it fair that you’re to be King and I your slave when you’ve no taste for such things? Or any taste at all.”

“You do not wish to be my slave?”

Loki looks up at him. “That’s not what I meant.”

He walks towards the sofa where Thor is sprawled, sinking to his knees when he reaches him, taking his hand and kissing first the knuckles then the palm. Thor loves him most of all like this-when it’s just the two of them, and the disdainful mask Loki wears for the rest of the world is put aside.

“Would you like to know a secret?” Loki asks.

Thor nods.

“The reason I hate Thurseblot so much is because I adore you every day, every minute of my life, and I just can’t stand the incursion of all those _casuals_.” He kisses Thor’s fingertips, then nips at them. “Who could ever worship you as I do?”

Thor smiles, a little unseated. Loki is always doing this to him. He never knows if he’ll receive some barbed little jest or something like this- an admission of love and submission that melts him completely.

He lifts Loki’s face, running his thumb over his lips.

“Perhaps we’ll have our own private celebration this year?”

Loki raises an eyebrow. “Christmas at Stark’s, Thurseblot here in these eminently adequate rooms? A good plan. You’re wise as well as handsome, Master.”

“And you have an insolent tongue.”

“Me? I was praising you.”

“I know what you were doing, and I’ve taught you better uses for your tongue than that.”

He slaps Loki’s face lightly, loving the way his lips part in shock and his eyes sparkle.

“My apologies, Master. What _would_ you have me do?”

“Now that tone I like better,” says Thor. He hooks a finger into Loki’s collar and pulls him up, leaning forward to kiss him, feeling the tenseness that’s always coiled within his Brother’s elegant frame melting away, his body relaxing to lean against Thor’s legs.

When Thor’s done with his mouth he slaps him again back and forth just to see the need shine brighter in Loki’s eyes, and the cocky certainty vanish. Loki may have given himself to Thor completely, but each time Thor wishes to conquer him there’s still this small token battle against Loki’s rebellious, prideful nature to win, and it’s one he loves to fight. It would be less exciting for both of them if it was otherwise. Loki’s cheeks are flushed a pleasing pink by the time Thor is finished with this humiliating little chastisement. It’s barely even painful, yet it gets him hard seeing a Loki submit to such an insult, and to see it work so obviously on his desire. Thor leans back and pushes Loki’s knees apart with his foot. 

“You liked that.” He kicks gently at the length of Loki’s cock that strains against the exquisite black wool of his trousers.

Loki makes a small noise that’s almost a whimper.

“Festive. A fine tribute to Thurseblot. How else did you intend to show your devotion?”

Loki shoots him a pleading look which he ignores. He knows that it’s easier for Loki when Thor tells him what he wishes him to do. It makes him feel far more vulnerable to choose his own shows of fealty, which is possibly why Thor enjoys them so.

Now Loki bends down to kiss the leather of Thor’s boot, moving with his usual grace in spite of the demeaning position.

“Mmm, good. My boots could use a polish if we’re to be attending Stark’s celebration. Use that busy tongue of yours, Brother.”

Loki squirms in protest but obeys, and Thor leans back, satisfied, resting his other leg on Loki’s back, pressing him lower still.

He makes Loki go over both of his boots twice, and by the time he’s finished cleaning the leather with his tongue they’re both of them more than ready to test the bounce of the mattress in the painfully elegant bedroom. Thor scoops Loki up, slinging him over his shoulder and carrying him through, to dump him on a comforter as white and as deep as a fresh snow drift.

“You’re still dressed. Get rid of it.”

Loki mutters his spell and Thor’s on top of him in an instant, needing to have that smooth pale skin under his hands and his tongue. He pushes and pulls Loki this way and that, squeezing, slapping and stroking as he wishes.

“Delicious. A fitting tribute for your King indeed.”

He doesn’t let Loki use magic to remove his own clothes, instead he has him use his mouth, unfastening each button and zip with his teeth and his tongue. It’s a difficult task to perform elegantly and Thor corrects him with a hard slap every time he falters. Soon Loki’s pressing placating kisses to his chest, pleading without words for mercy. Thor knows that it isn’t the slaps that Loki fears, but being unable to please him and relents, shedding the rest of his own clothes and pulling his Brother into his arms.

Loki kisses each of his nipples, his hands running up and down Thor’s body.

“Such a beauty you are, Master. Who would not worship you? Forget trees, I’d have a statue of you a hundred feet tall in every plaza of this city where those less lovely than you could make their tribute.”

Thor smiles. “I’d have a statue life-sized to stand in the sleeping chamber of your rooms with a stone prick to match my own and I’d see you mount yourself on it every day to prove your devotion to me.”

Loki blinks. “Now there’s an idea. Perhaps this Midgardian Santa Claus will bring me one?”

“Perhaps. But until then you’ll have to prove your devotion to me in person.”

He fucks Loki up on his knees in the center of the luxurious bed. The city glimmers around them, the electric lights of the city’s towers a galaxy of stars to rival those that hang around Asgard. He’s rough and then tender, making Loki match his pace, taking what he wants, and finally filling Loki’s well-used hole with his seed.

“Master...May I please?” Loki pants as Thor pulls out of his body. He hasn’t touched Loki’s prick at all while he’s used him, but he has his slave so well conditioned that Loki’s dripping and ready the instant Thor mounts him. 

“Not yet,” says Thor. “Lie down next to me. It amuses me to tease you tonight I think.”

Loki bites his lip, but obeys, lying hip to hip with Thor who props himself up on one elbow to look down at the enticing body below him.

He pinches Loki’s nipple, rolling it back and forth between thumb and forefinger, laughing as Loki’s eyes flutter shut. 

“So easy.”

Loki says nothing, just gives Thor a pleading look, and he a little harder, then turns his attention to the other nipple, noting how all the tiny hairs on Loki’s body stand on end.

He slides his hand lower, his fingers teasing the dark hair that grows around Loki’s prick, gently stroking his thighs as Loki’s legs part, trailing his palm tantalizingly close to his slave’s hard cock but never quite touching it, until Loki’s hips are jerking in desperate little thrusts.

He knows better than to beg for it though, and Thor rewards him with a single kiss on the swollen head of his prick.

“As eager as that, are you? Did you like it Brother, cleaning my boots with that clever tongue? Having your hole used to satisfy your Master’s cock?”

Loki nods.

“And this?” He wraps his hand lightly around Loki’s prick. “Do you like this?”

“Ah, yes, _please_?”

Thor taps his nose. “I already told you, I mean to tease you, yet I believe you’re losing your self-control. How unlike you Brother.”

Loki scowls, then moans as Thor closes his hand and more tightly and starts to stroke.

“Perhaps I’m wrong though? Perhaps you _can_ control yourself?”

Loki moans louder, and Thor strokes him a little faster.

“Can you hold yourself back, Loki? I’ll be very unhappy if you spend without my permission.”

Loki shakes his head. “Stop, then.”

“Truly?”

“Thor, please!”

“Please stop, or please keep going? Bearing in mind that if you reach your peak without my permission you’ll wait a long time indeed for the next one.”

“Please stop!”

“Hmmm, but I don’t want to,” says Thor. “I love playing with my slave’s needy prick while he gives me such pretty looks.”

Loki lets out a long shuddering breath. “Master please, I can’t hold back much longer.”

“You can’t?” Asks Thor. “Perhaps you need some help.”

He lets go of Loki’s prick.

“Look how hard you are, how ready. I think if I touched you again you’d spend in spite of your Master’s wishes. If only there was some way to bring you back from the edge.”

Loki looks up at him, pleadingly. “Not that.”

Thor laughs. “Not that? So you’re saying you can control yourself if I start to stroke your prick again?”

Slowly Loki shakes his head.

“Well then. Where shall we start? Can you keep your hands at the back of your head or do I need to tie you?”

Loki moves his hands to the back of his head, not meeting Thor’s gaze.

“Mmm, perfect. Let’s start here.”

He trails his finger in slow circles around Loki’s navel.

“You know I hate this,” says Loki, breathlessly.

“I _do_ know. It’s unwise of you to remind me. But it’s Thurseblot! So it’s what pleases me that’s important, and it pleases me indeed to see you squirm. Not _too_ much though, I want you to keep still for me.”

“How can I?” Gasps Loki as Thor’s fingers find the most ticklish spot on his lower belly and stay there.

“I’m sure you’ll think of something, cunning as you are.”

Loki moans through gritted teeth as Thor’s relentless fingers explore his belly, tickling lightly for now, but lightly is all it takes to get Loki gasping and sighing.

“Ah look, it’s working already,” says Thor, giving his now half-hard cock a squeeze. “Thank your Master.”

Loki glares at him. “Thank you Master,” he spits.

“Something wrong? Don’t you like your belly tickled? Well we can fix that. Arms higher.”

“I’m sorry Master, I didn’t mean it,” Loki pleads, but Thor ignores him.

“Keep still,” he warns, and Loki nods, surrendering to his fate.

Whipping Loki, or even spanking him over his knee like a disobedient apprentice is humiliating enough for his brother to bear, but he knows that this is worse for him, suffering through pain is something a warrior does. There’s no dignity of nobility in being tickled like the cosseted pet of a foppish duke, and it leaves Loki quite helpless. Perhaps that’s why Thor enjoys it so much? Although the way Loki’s spare, muscular body writes in spite of his efforts to hold himself still may have something to do with it.

He runs his fingers up and down Loki’s ribs, digging in a little harder, trying to break the last of Loki’s composure, but he doesn’t crack until Thor’s fingers find his underarms.

“No, enough, please!”

Thor sighs. “Are you truly going to make me tie you up?” He snaps his fingers. “Very well, do it.”

In truth he’s pleased to make Loki summon rope. He adores the way Loki looks with his wrists bound loosely to the bed posts, the way it stretches his chest taught so that he can see the rise and fall of his chest describe his breathless anticipation. He sits on Loki’s legs to hold them in place and spends the next half hour bedeviling the bound God without mercy, moving from the pits of his arms, to his ribs to the flat of his stretched belly, barely giving him enough respite even to catch a breath. Loki’s absolutely not the type to be moved to laughter by such torture, but his gasps and moans and muttered curses and pleas are more pleasing to Thor anyway.

Finally he relents, lifting Loki’s prick in his hand. It’s still half hard, in spite of (or perhaps because of) the torment. 

“There. Still unable to hold yourself in check?”

Loki shakes his head, and chuckling Thor starts to stroke him again, using all of his art to bring him quickly hard, 

“I take it you won’t let me off as easily as that?” Loki gasps.

“Clever as always.”

He runs his thumb through the wetness that slicks the slit of Loki’s prick and Loki moans,

“Tell me when you’re at your edge.”

“And will you...will you let me over it?”

Thor shakes his head. “Where would be the fun in that? Thurseblot isn’t Thurseblot without games and I’m enjoying this one immensely.”

He brings Loki to the edge and then torments him back from it twice more before even his most devilishly merciless teasing can’t do anything to dispel Loki’s ardor and they’re both out of breath.

He leans down to kiss Loki’s sweat drenched chest. “My poor Brother, beyond all help.” He squeezes Loki’s straining prick, gives it a couple of quick pulls.

“Perhaps there _is_ still a way to cool your blood?”

Loki shakes his head.

“Truly? Nothing. Because I would have thought the feet..,”

“No, no, no! Not that, Norns Thor, please.”

“Must we bind your legs?”

“Master, _please_ don’t.” 

Thor shakes his head. “I do love you. But sadly this is not Lokisblot, and I wish to see you suffer. Don’t you want to please me?”

Loki nods.

“Good, then you’ll obey me without me needing to bind you.”

He shuffles backwards to sit at Loki’s feet, lifting them up into his lap. Loki stares at him, pleading and apprehension in his blue eyes, his hands still bound to the bed. He looks so lovely that Thor’s tempted to take him again and end the game, but he has the sneaking suspicion that Loki would be disappointed if he did in spite of all his protests. He starts with the left foot, taking hold of the great toe, and pushing it back gently so that Loki is forced to flex his sole.

Loki’s breathing is fast but it stops altogether when Thor traces his finger up the arch of Loki’s foot. He can feel his leg muscles tense with the effort of keeping still. He continues to run his finger tips softly up and down Loki’s sole until Loki is biting his lip and tugging against his wrist bonds, then he moves on to the other foot, making him suffer the same torment all over again.

“Good,” he tells Loki. “But I’ve barely started yet and I mean to do this for a very long time. Perhaps I’ll be kind to you?”

Loki’s too smart to thank him yet.

“I think I will bind you after all. Save you the battle of not struggling. Let you appreciate every bit of the sensation.”

“I can’t change your mind?”

Thor shakes his head. “But afterwards you’ll be well rewarded.”

He holds out is hand to summon Mjolnir-disguised as usual as a Midgardian umbrella. It’s possible that this isn’t quite the use the ancient Magics of Asgard had in mind when they’d made it immovable to any but he, but Thor has to admit that it’s an exceptional anchor point for his pillow games with Loki.

He rolls Loki onto his belly and puts Mjølnir down on the small of his back, pinning him in place with the handle painting backwards over his thighs.

“You know what I want.”

Loki lifts his legs obligingly, the enchanted rope swarming into life to bind his ankles to Mjolnir’s shaft.

“A loop around each of your great toes too, so you can’t move your feet an inch,” Thor tells him. Loki opens his mouth as if to beg some more, but Thor doesn’t give him the chance.

His fingers move more roughy over Loki’s helpless soles, tickling the sensitive insteps and squirming toes, switching from one foot to the next to draw out the initial sensitivity as long as possible. Loki struggles in vain, and seeing his muscular body so helpless gets Thor almost as desperately aroused as Loki himself had been when they’d begin this game. 

He keeps going as Loki struggles and then begs. When his fingers no longer get the reaction he desires, the luxury suite offers up all sorts of interesting objects to experiment with. A hairbrush with stiff little plastic bristles makes Loki gasp, and a toothbrush makes him curse Thor in a variety of arcane languages. The soft edge of a fur throw is a gentler sort of torment, and what’s more it’s perfect for soothing his overstimulated nerve endings long enough that Thor can start from the beginning once more. Outside the suite windows snow has begun to drift from the sky, and the clouds glow with the occasional crackle of lightning as the power of the bond between them continues to build.

It’s only after Loki gives in entirely, lying limp and perfectly submissive that Thor relents. Loki’s body is bathed in sweat and Thor stoops to lick it from his back, the salt taste as delicious as the tears that he finds on Loki’s cheeks when he releases him and pulls him into his arms.

“And look,” he says, squeezing Loki’s prick. “Still so hard and needy. Should I allow you your pleasure?”

Loki only nuzzles his face into Thor’s shoulder. “Anything you wish, Master. I give in to your will.”

Thor nips at his ear, runs a finger over the name rune that glows over Loki’s heart. “That’s what I wanted. You’ll have what you need Brother, and then I mean to take you again. Perhaps we’ll make this a Thurseblot tradition you and I?

* * *

Less lurid traditions await them on the streets of Manhattan. They walk side by side, Thor’s coat collar turned up against the falling snow, Loki as always unaffected by cold. Twinkling lights in red and gold and green decorate the shop windows, and the streets are busy with shoppers wearing heavy coats and harried expressions as they haul their armfuls of carrier bags through the crowd.

Thor frowns at the map the concierge gave him.

“We could be there in an instant...”

“By magic, I know.” Thor says. 

“It’s this way,” says Loki, taking the map. “You were reading it upside down.”

“Ah, that would explain it. My mind is still elsewhere.”

Loki smiles. “Mine too.” He leans against Thor for a second. “Look, just down here and take a left.”

The tree in the plaza is everything Tony promised, towering as high as any in the ancient woods around Midgard. The branches are heavy with garlands and lights and ornaments that shimmer softly. Improbably, a small rectangle of ice stands at the bottom of the tree, and Midgardians glide back and forth on it, others leaning on the barrier to watch them.

“We used to skate on the river in Asgard some winters,” Thor said. “Do you remember?”

“As children,” scoffs Loki. “These are not children, but grown men and women.”

“The tree is magnificent though. I like this tradition.”

“I prefer Thurseblot,” says Loki, favoring him with wicked smile.

“You hate Thurseblot.”

“I hated it in Asgard. This Midgardian version has its merits.”

They buy hot chocolate from a stand near the ice. The young girl behind the counter has rings in her nose and her ears and a surly demeanor. The pin on her leather jacket has Loki’s face on it.

Loki lets his mask drop long enough to give her a wink, and they walk away as her mouth drops open.

“Unwise, Brother,”

Loki snorts. “You take photographs with your fans.”

“I didn’t wage war on this city. And I’m not the one who loathes Midgardian attention.”

“What can I say? I suppose I’m infused with Christmas spirit. I’m a little surprised by it though. She’s the second I’ve seen this evening. Why should these Midgardian youths wear my face?”

Thor snorts. “Rebellious, troubled, dark brooding good looks? Of course there are some on Midgard who worship you.”

“I tried to enslave them.”

“I _did_ enslave you, and you tolerate me well enough.”

They walk on in a companionable silence, looking at the wares piled behind the brightly lit glass-Plush coats of fur, headless plastic statues garbed in glittering gowns and finely tailored suits of the kind Loki favors. Cabs hiss through the slushy snow and Midgardian songs spill from open doorways along with the warmth of the crowded stores and the scent of perfume and cooking food.

“We ought to find a gift for Stark and his woman,” says Loki.

Thor glances at him.

“What? It’s their tradition, is it not.”

“What ought we to buy them? For Jul a sword is considered fitting. Or perhaps a pike? Better reach.”

“I don’t think any of these merchants sell swords,” says Loki. “Or pikes.”

“What then?”

“She likes art, so I hear,” Loki says.

“Art? How do you know she likes art?”

“Know your enemy,” Loki says, draining his hot chocolate.

Thor sighs.

“Don’t worry, Brother. I’m going to be on my best behavior. Look, this place appears to be woundingly expensive. I think it will do.”

They stand in front of a narrow store with “Fine Art & Antiques. By Appointment only” written on the glass. Thor doubts Loki has an appointment but nor does he doubt that Loki will be able to talk his way inside anyway.

“I don’t know much about Midgardian art,” Thor says, doubtfully.

“Luckily for you, I do.”

“How?”

“Because I pick up a book occasionally.”

“Hmm, can’t say I’ve noticed. After you then, Brother.”

* * *

The next evening they take a cab to Stark tower. Rhodey rides up in the elevator with them, along with his date, a Midgardian woman named Janine who shoots many terrified glances towards both Loki and the glass wall of the elevator with its dizzying view of the ground that vanishes below them as they’re whisked skywards.

“I don’t like heights,” she explains, when she sees Thor watching her. Her thoughts on potentially hostile alien trickster Gods she wisely keeps to herself.

“It’s perfectly safe,” Thor says.

“Stark technology,” Rhodey adds. “Best of the best.”

“His bungling robot locked me in a shower once,” says Loki casually, shifting the heavy wrapped package he holds beneath his arm. “But at least one of us can fly. How many do you think you could carry Thor, one or two?”

Thor would sorely love to give him a kick but he’s standing too far away. Instead he speaks into his mind.

“Mind your manners, Loki. If you think I won’t drag you into one of Stark’s bathrooms and throw you over my knee, you don’t know me at all. In fact, I’m hoping you’ll give me a reason.”

Loki gives him a calculating look, but Thor thinks that after the afternoon they’ve spent with the antique ebony sword cane they added to their small pile of purchases last night, even Loki’s taste for pain is sated. His Brother is already going to struggle to sit still throughout dinner with the welts and bruises that stripe his backside.

The thought makes him smile, and as they leave the elevator he makes sure to walk close behind Loki so that he can give his tender flesh a squeeze through the cloth of his fine suit.

Tony looks relieved to see them, striding forward through the cavernous living area with arms spread. No tree here, but the soft music and gleaming furnishings are welcoming enough. Thor wonders if anyone will mention that the last time Loki visited this particular building he threw Tony out of a window before absconding with the Tesseract. 

“Guys! You made it. No one got kidnapped by aliens or magic space Vikings or anything.”

The famous Pepper Potts appears behind Tony. She wears an elegant simple black shift and a chunky necklace of odd geometric shapes in silver.

“Thor, Loki, I’ve heard so much about you! And Rhodey, it’s been far too long, is this Janine?”

Pepper’s hand is cool when she takes Thor’s, and when she leans up to kiss his cheek and he catches the scent of her perfume, subtle and expensive. He can see straight away why she has captivated Stark. The intelligent gleam of her eyes, the grace of her long neck and legs draw the eye. In a way she reminds him of Loki, only this woman is a creature of light to Loki’s darkness. She ushers them in with an efficiency that might be off-putting in anyone with less warmth and skill for putting others at their ease. Even Janine seems to relax as Pepper takes their coats.

Thor is glad. He hadn’t known what to expect, but this woman, reputedly so clever and capable is exactly the kind of stability Stark needs.

“What though does _she_ need?” Loki asks in his mind. “Maybe a project? Tony is certainly that”

Thor doesn’t reply. He suspects that Loki’s jealous not to be the focus of Tony’s hopeful looks and best jokes. To Thor’s relief Loki keeps his jealousy well hidden as Tony leads them over to the low sofas next to a peculiar glass fireplace.

“We brought you a gift he says, remembering. I believe it’s the custom?”

“What is it?” asks Tony. “A flying horse? Tell me it’s a flying horse.”

Loki gives him a narrow look. “It’s for Ms. Potts, really. You have enough toys.”

Pepper laughs, “That’s for sure,”

Tony shakes his head. “Being cruel to an orphan. On Christmas too.”

“I hope you like it, Ms. Potts.”

“Call me Pepper, Loki. And that’s so kind of you. Kind of you _both_.” She beams back and forth between them, and Thor can see the confusion on Loki’s face. It would be a bad idea to smile, but he can usually catch something of Loki’s thoughts these days and can tell how his natural instinct for antagonism is warring with his pleasure as being acknowledged publicly as Thor’s lover. He passes the gift over without a word, and Pepper takes the wrapper off the heavy little bundle, frowning slightly. 

“What is it? _Oh_!” She looks up at Loki eyes wide. “Is this a Sickert?”

Loki nods. Thor had his doubts about the little painting, it barely looks like art to him. There are no victorious warriors or winged spirits bearing the heads of slain monsters to the cursed realms, just a rather muddled painting of a young woman leaning her head on her hand, a dreamy expression on her face. Pepper lifts it to the light to see it better, handling it gently.

“Tony, did you see this? I don’t believe it.” She turns back to Loki. “This must have cost you a fortune!”

Loki shrugs. “A little Asgardian gold buys a lot of Midgardian currency, and I heard you collected him.”

Tony peers over his shoulder. “It’s no girl in tennis skirt, but it’s very you, Pep.”

“Uhhh, I bought wine,” says Rhodey. “Like, nice wine, but...”

“Wine’s great,” says Tony. “And so is the painting. Thanks guys. I’m glad you could be here, it’s been a hell of a year, but it hasn’t been all bad. My tax returns were a nightmare, but on the plus side I went into space and met a God.”

Pepper comes over to kiss Loki’s cheek before he can lean back.

“You’re a sweetheart. You too Thor.”

“Loki chose it. I was thinking a sword.” 

As Pepper stoops to kiss him Thor catches sight of Loki’s bewildered face and this time he can’t hide his smile.

“I’m glad you liked it,” is all he says, which for Loki is practically jolly.

Tony pours the drinks, and although it’s not Asgardian ale Thor likes it well enough. Pepper spends so long examining the painting that Loki thaws entirely, pleased that his gift-and by extension, himself- is being admired.

“He likes her,” Thor mutters to Tony as the two of them lean on the gilded bar. “I like her too.”

“That makes three of us. So, you think I have a shot?”

Pepper smiles over at them. Her eyes linger on Tony. 

“I’d say so. Not that I have much experience.”

“Oh, I don’t know, you guys seem to be doing well enough. Makes me all warm and fuzzy inside. Did you enjoy Manhattan? It’s nice when it’s not exploding, huh?”

Thor nods, “It's not Asgard, but I’m beginning to feel at home here.”

“Good. It could be your home, you know. After all this is done. If we live, anyway.”

“If we live,” agrees Thor. “But I’m supposed to be King one day. It’s ordained that I must return to Asgard to rule.”

Tony shakes his head. “Hey, I don’t know much about romance either- not the long term kind where you catch feelings instead of an itch, but if a guy looks at someone like Loki looks at you, I’d say you’re already a King.”

He laughs. “Cheeseball territory, right? But without Cap here I have to pick up the slack.”

“It’s a noble sentiment,” Thor says. “And maybe a true one. I don’t know that it would be acceptable to my Father, though.”

“That’s Fathers for you,” says Tony. “Here, have another drink.”

Thor accepts gratefully- he’s more grateful still for the way Loki speaks civilly with the other guests. He’s charm itself when he chooses, but he chooses on his own terms even now.

“Glad you guys could be here,” Tony says. “This isn’t a super happy time of year for me. My parents you know, that whole thing.”

Thor nods. He’s heard the story of what happened to Tony’s parents.

“I don’t know what our chances are out there in a galaxy far, far away, but I feel like we have a chance, you know?”

Thor nods. the trouble is it always feels like there’s a chance when warriors come together to feast. It’s before battle when you can hear the roar of the enemy and smell the blood of those already fallen that such certain feelings fade, but if Yule really is a cousin to Jul it’s not the time to mention it, and so he makes another toast to the health of his hosts instead.

“Tony, I hope you’re not trying to keep up with Thor,” Pepper calls over.

“Me? Asks Tony. “I wouldn’t dream of it. I only _look_ like a God. Sad as I am to admit it I can’t drink like one.”

“Never stopped you trying before,” Rhodey says.

“Sure,” says Tony amimianly. “Before.”

“He really is in love,” Loki says in Thor’s mind.

He doesn’t sound scathing anymore, in fact he sounds almost fond.

“Christmas spirit,” says Loki. “And in case you were wondering, _that_ was scathing.”

The food is delicious and not too strange by Midgardian standards, and after they’ve eaten Pepper turns the music up and Janine and Rhodey dance a little tipsily in each other’s arms. 

“Come on Tony,” says Pepper. “Dance with me.”

Tony shakes his head.

“Come on, you’re the party guy.”

“I’m reformed. And I have about ten pounds of ham onboard. Back me up here, Loki, you don’t dance either.”

Loki stands up. “Don’t I, Stark? He makes a small bow to Thor. “May I have the pleasure?”

Thor’s too amazed to do anything but nod.

“You hate dancing,” he whispers in Loki’s ear as they move together. “You went to every one of those balls and banquets back on Asgard like a prisoner to the headsman.”

Loki shrugs. “I like to see Stark suffer. And perhaps it wasn’t the dancing I hated, but to see _you_ dance with all those others- those Maidens who sought your hand.”

“What a long time ago that seems.”

“And how far from here,” Loki agrees. “So different we are now, and yet there’s still that part of us that never changed.”

“And never will,” says Thor. But there’s a cold feeling of foreboding in his heart as he says the words.

Pepper laughs as Tony drags her round the room in a deranged waltz that bounds over sofas and whirls around tables, Rhodey is whispering something to Janine and she hugs him tighter, smiling softly, just like the girl from that long-ago day captured in oils by the Midgardian artist, Sickert. In a year from now where will they be, he and Loki? How many of the Avengers will fall to win this battle? Perhaps this first peculiar Midgardian Christmas will be their last. As lovely as the stars look tonight, Thor knows all too well what waits for them out there.

“Not tonight,” Loki whispers. “It will continue to wait for us. Let us enjoy the time we have.”

Thor chuckles. “If I didn’t know better I’d say you were coming around to this Christmas thing.”

Loki shakes his head. “Peace and goodwill to all men? It’s not really my style.”

Thor kisses him gently. “Merry Christmas anyway, Loki Laufeyson.”

Loki sighs. “Merry Christmas, Thor Odinsson. And what is it they say?”

“And a happy new year,” says Tony as he gallops past.

“Yes, that too.”

“Don’t forget happy Thurseblot!” Adds Rhodey

“Thurseblot?” Aks Pepper. “What’s that?”

“It’s something you have to experience yourself,” Loki says, slyly. “I bet Tony could show you. I happen to know that during his time on Asgard he learned all sorts of Asgardian customs. A very fast learner, your man.”

“Really?”

“Oh yes,” says Loki. “In fact...”

“Will you excuse us?” Thor says. “Loki and I need a word in private. Tony, where would I find your bathroom?”

Loki lets himself be towed along behind Thor. He doesn’t object when Thor pulls him into the marble, bathroom, nor when he sits on the side of the tub and pushes him over his lap.

“Nothing to say for yourself?”

“Only what Tony said.”

“And what’s that?”

“Happy Thurseblot, Brother. Call this opportunity my final gift to you.”

Thor shakes his head. “It’s no painting, and no sword either, and yet I think I’m going to enjoy it all the same.”

  
  



End file.
